And it had all been a dream
by hanzitheincredible
Summary: a blatant parody of all alternative reality stories. with alligators.


**Thought I'd mention beforehand that this story is the result of an extremely weird and vivid dream. Hence the title. It's supposed to be a joke.**

**It Had All Been A Dream **

Alice woke up.

And screamed. Her screams woke the room's other occupant, a male whose appearance and identity cannot be made known for legal reasons. The cause of his rude awakening quickly became apparent to Alice's companion as he looked about him – the room in which they found themselves was no more than a large steel box, completely lacking in furniture. Neither of them knew how they'd got there. Both were pretty sure they'd gone to sleep in their own bedroom. Well, reasonably sure. Last night's party hadn't been _that_ bad.

There was a door-shaped outline in the wall to their left, but it was shut. No groove to prise the door open from. No handle. There was no exit.

Suddenly, the door swung inwards to reveal a man standing in the doorway. His appearance was perfectly normal, nondescript, the face-in-the-crowd type that is never remembered. He was so normal-looking, in fact, that the author cannot write his description. Feel free to imagine, say, your next door neighbour. He carried a harpoon gun on his back.

"Welcome," he said, in a clear Etonian accent. "My name is Vlad."

The couple exchanged bemused glances. "Vlad?"

"Sorry, wrong accent," said Vlad, slipping smoothly into Eastern European.

Nameless Male looked sceptical. "Convince me," he said, folding his arms.

Vlad threw his arms up in exasperation. "Alright! Alright!" he cried. "But no one takes you seriously as a henchman when you're a five foot eight ex-Etonian with a name like Jessica." He pouted.

Alice let out a giggle. "_Jessica_?"

Jessica shrugged. "My parents always wanted a girl. But I like Vlad better. It's got something about it – more of a _children of the night_ feel to it, don't you think old chap? And Igor is just so _common_..."

"Each to their own, I suppose," muttered Alice. "Anyway, Jessica-"

Jessica glared at her.

" - sorry, Vlad. What's doing?"

Vlad bowed slightly, waving his harpoon lazily in the direction of the hallway. "If you will walk this way," he said.

The Man With No Name and Alice exchanged another glance before following the direction the harpoon, which Vlad swung back into its holster strapped onto his back. On the other side of the hallway were a number of doors, and in the centre was a small table with a cake and a bottle of some strange, murky liquid set out on it. Alice treated Vlad to a cold stare.

"You know I don't find that remotely funny."

Vlad chuckled deeply. "We thought it would make you feel more at home."

"Who's 'we'?" asked Nameless Male, cutting off Alice's sulk.

Their host grinned widely, a knowing smile playing about his nondescript features. "Ah," he said. "I think it's time you met Mr Tray."

The door at the end of the row swung open. At first, they could not see anyone. Then they glanced down, and saw a figure sitting on what looked like a red plastic airline luggage tray. His features were shrouded in shadow. Alice rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't expecting you," the figure rasped, swivelling round on his tray to face them. He was legless. The rest of him was covered in circular green labels, each one proclaiming 'In Memoriam' with a name and the body part they were attached to. Every single body part had a label – all except his hands and his eyes. He, too, carried a harpoon and was stroking a snowy-white bunny rabbit.

The Unidentified Friendly Object (AKA Nameless Male, UFO etc) recovered himself. "You remind me of Sideways Arnold from the Discworld books," he mused.

Tray-man did not appear amused. "Why has everyone read those books?" he growled. "My name is Mr Tray. Welcome to our humble abode."

"Yes, but what is this place?" demanded Alice, who was still sore about the Wonderland reference. "I mean, one minute we're coming home from a night out, the next we wake up in a steel box!"

Mr Tray smiled thinly, though it was really more of a grimace. A single green label dangled from his lower lip. "Now we come to it," he said, rubbing his hands together. "If you would follow me..."

He spun the tray around deftly and wheeled it further into the room. They followed him and saw that, at the other end of the room, there was a large window. Alice and her companion peered out through the glass pane, and gasped at the scene outside. It looked like any normal neighbourhood – streets and cars, children playing on bikes and scooters, grannies with Zimmer frames being helped across the road. But everyone – every single person – was wearing numbered green sports bibs.

Alice pointed this out. "Why are they wearing numbered bibs?" she asked.

"It's the law," replied Mr Tray. Then he leaned in closer, positively leering at her. "And because their days are numbered."

Alice noticed inscription on Mr Tray's lip label as it quivered when he spoke. _In Memoriam, David Tractor, mouth._

"We are cannibals, you see," came a voice from behind them.

They turned to see Vlad standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the doorframe with an easy grace, casually, cutting off their escape.

"I had a bad childhood," began Mr Tray in mournful tones, with the air of someone about to tell a story.

Alice put on her best counsellor's voice. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

"He never had a childhood," interrupted Vlad. "Mr Tray simply appeared one day, hands and eyeballs, isn't that right old boy?"

Mr Tray nodded. "My harpoon was my only friend," he sniffed, wiping away an imaginary tear with the back of his hand. "But we got on well, my harpoon and me. It helped me a lot to come to terms with who I am. It taught me the real meaning of life. Together we shot people and, slowly, I built myself up from their body parts. My harpoon has helped me become who I am today. And then I met Jessica and it just felt like we were made for each other. We've been working together ever since."

"So what do you want with us?" asked Nameless Male.

Vlad grinned nastily. "We want your legs."

"And a decent supper," added Mr Tray. "I've been meaning to try out this new recipe for ages – liver and onions in a white wine sauce - hmmmm." (note to readers: if you are under sixteen years of age, pregnant, or suffer from any debilitating disease such as chronic heart problems, kidney failure or toothache, you may not operate heavy machinery whilst reading this story. Ed.).

Alice and her companion were horrified. Mr Tray and Vlad were closing in on them menacingly. UFO grabbed her hand and dragged her to the doorway, but she resisted.

"One moment, I haven't done my cliché yet."

And she screamed a scream to rival that of the greatest horror story victims – a long, loud, high-pitched bloodcurdling shriek that echoed through the house and rocked its foundations. The windows vibrated; the vial on the table outside fell to the floor and smashed. Crockery rattled in its display cabinets; doors shook on their hinges. It was truly magnificent, and lasted several minutes. Then she stopped. The echoes died away.

"Better?" asked her companion.

She nodded, and grabbed his hand. The two of them fled to the door. The chase was on. Vlad and Mr Tray pursued them across the hallway and down a narrow passage that twisted sharply left and right. Mr Tray's maniacal shrieks echoed down the dusty corridors.

"You'll never leave this house alive!" he cackled. "Get them, Mr Flopsy – GET THEM!"

Alice rolled her eyes again. Stereotypical horror story villain. Give them a rabbit and they think they're the best thing since Dr No. She heard heavy footfalls thundering in the passage not far behind them and turned to see a large white rabbit chasing after them, closing in. There was a pocket watch dangling on a gold chain from an invisible pocket somewhere within its fur.

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" yelled Alice. "And don't even _think_ of surrounding the house with playing cards 'cause then I'll get _really_ annoyed!"

They ran on through the house, up and down corridors, past rows and more rows of doors. Was there no end to these winding passageways? Eventually they found a door that appeared to lead outside. There was no sign of the suburban street they'd spied earlier, but instead the door opened onto rolling green fields, surrounded by small copses of trees. A wide, meandering river stretched around the fields, parallel to the trees. Alice and her unidentified companion raced across the fields, dimly aware of Mr Flopsy bounding after them. Running alongside the river now, they spotted Mr Tray nestled up in one of the trees, harpoon gun carefully aimed at them. They veered away from that copse, only to find Vlad coming at them from in front. Mr Tray sneered and fired a shot. In true horror-story style, it missed the Nameless Male's ear by a fraction; the recoil, true to Newton's third law of motion, shoving his tray backwards, and so Mr Tray began to fall, in slow motion, arms flailing and squealing like a school-girl, towards the river. Vlad dropped his own harpoon gun and rushed to catch him, but, having been educated at Eton, and thus having played cricket in the English style, he dropped the catch, toppling into the river himself. Alice noticed for the first time that it was infested with alligators; a helpful sign warned strangers to beware of them, and please do not feed them.

One of the alligators was ticking.

Then there was a splash, a yelp, and a sickening crunch as the red plastic tray was snapped up and swallowed. Vlad and Mr Tray were not long to survive it, their cries abruptly stopping as they, too, were crunched up. One of the alligators belched loudly and patted its stomach.

Since there was not much point staying by the alligator-infested river to contemplate their erstwhile captors' horrifying deaths, they began to walk across the fields, wondering what lay beyond them. The walk was long and tedious, with nothing but more fields stretching away continuously before them. After what seemed like hours, Alice spotted a house on the horizon. They ran towards it, hoping that, at last, they would find shelter. Excitement turned to dismay, however, as they realised that it was the same house they had escaped from.

"We've been walking in circles!" exclaimed The Man.

Alice shook her head. "I don't think so. The sun's been directly ahead of us, I'm sure we walked in a straight line the whole time."

That Bloke (wow! It's quite difficult to keep coming up with new ways to refer to this guy... Ed.) pouted and put on his very best six-year old voice. "It's a mystawee!"

For the third time, Alice rolled her eyes. "Well, we may as well explore the house. See if there are any clues to help us get out of here."

She crossed to the back door, which was still ajar. Her companion followed, looking dubious. They went from room to room, searching for anything that might hint to them as to where they were. Alice glanced out of a window, only to see the same street they'd been shown earlier, with everyone wearing numbered green sports bibs. Not a sign of a field in sight. Curiouser and curiouser ...

"Hey, come here!" called UFO from a living room.

Alice rushed over to see what he was showing her.

"It's a signed picture of the 1978 Coventry City squad with the FA Cup."

Alice shrugged. "So?"

"Coventry City have never _won_ the FA Cup."

Right on cue, and, as is traditional, seemingly out of nowhere, eerie music started whining. Alice simply waited it out before replying flatly, "Oh."

The other signs were easier to find, now that they knew what they were looking for. Throughout the house there were more pictures or articles, little things that were nearly right, yet wrong. Darcy Bussell holding a gymnastics trophy. John Sergeant winning Strictly Come Dancing. JK Rowling publishing her eighth Harry Potter novel. And there were more of them – many more.

"This isn't right," muttered Alice, poring over a book about a monk by JRR Tolkien; it was entitled 'The Habit'. "Something isn't right."

She put the book down and went into the next room, Nameless Male close behind her. The both gasped; the room was almost identical to the one they'd woken up in.

Almost identical. The entire face of one wall was, in fact, a touch-sensitive screen. Alice palmed it tentatively and immediately the screen lit up. Portrayed on it was an accurate 3D representation of the hallway they'd entered previously. She stepped closer, right into the three-dimensional picture. UFO stepped in hesitantly after her. Once again they began to explore the house, this time from the computer's view. It was confusing – left became right and right became left, and the house's layout had changed slightly. Corridors appeared and others no longer existed. There were more doors and less windows. Furniture had moved and the patterns on the fine china in the cabinets was a different colour. And again, there were pictures and articles of small things that were almost right, but wrong.

They came to a bathroom. It seemed quite normal, in comparison to the rest of the house, with the exception of the mirror that hung on the wall above the sink. There was a single word, written in what appeared to be toothpaste. It said, simply, REQUESTS.

Alice pressed it gently.

"How may I be of assistance?" came a clipped, robotic voice.

The male lead stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You can do anything we wish?"

"Affirmative."

"Then take us home please."

"I am sorry this task cannot be performed," replied the mirror in a monotone.

"But you said you could do anything!" cried Alice angrily.

"That is indeed the case," said the mirror.

"Then take us home, please," repeated UFO.

If the mirror had a head, it would have shaken it. "I regret to inform you that this is impossible," it said, with absolutely no hint of regret whatsoever.

Alice looked at it curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Your address is 38 Dunnes Lane, Sudsbury, East Anglia, England, is it not?"

Alice and her companion looked at each other, puzzled. "Yeeeeeees," they said slowly and in unison.

"This is 38 Dunnes Lane, Sudsbury, East Anglia, England," informed the mirror.

For possibly the final time, Alice rolled her eyes. "Oh great. I'm in an alternative reality. I'm gonna kill my parents!"

The Man glanced at her, eyebrows knitted in obvious concentration as he thought. "But then you'll never be born?" he asked, puzzled.

Sigh. "Don't bother - it's clearly beyond your intellectual grasp. Look, just make sure you don't tread on any ants, ok?"

The as yet unnamed person of xy chromosomal tendencies leaned forward into her face (now that was a good one... Ed), and stuck out his tongue "Whatevuuur, loser"

They stepped away from the mirror to confer, and, after several minutes' quiet whispering, they turned back to face the mirror. Without another word, they opened their minds up to the computer, giving the mirror their own memories of their own 38 Dunnes Lane. Once they'd finished, they asked the mirror to take them there.

The mirror complied, the room surrounding them seeming to melt and fade, the facade slipping away as the computer worked its magic. Then everything went black.

Alice woke up.

She stifled a scream as she realised that the room she was in was nothing more than a large steel box, completely devoid of furniture. Worriedly, she glanced to the wall, where there was a door-shaped hole.

There was a handle on the inside.

**A/N. No alligators were harmed in the making of this story, although a couple did suffer mild indigestion. Remember, an alligator is for life, not just for christmas.**


End file.
